In the End
by Lightning and Ice
Summary: All of my clan is working their way through this terrible leafbare. They think the will make it through. They have not sat back and watched as I have, seeing the hope drain away. -twoshot for Leafclan challenge-
1. Chapter 1

He was roused from his sleep by the medicine cat's perky mew.

"Here you go, Brownpaw! Lap them on up while I put this poultice on!"

Brownpaw looked down at the small pile of crumbling herbs in front of him while the medicine cat began rubbing a stinging pulp on to his flank.

"These are completely different from yesterdays." He mumbled suspiciously.

Echofrost, the medicine cat, squirmed a bit.

"Well, I ran out of those, and you know the storms have made it impossible to get more. So I switched. Now you're getting Chervil and Dandelion." She returned to covering the poultice to his flank.

Brownpaw pushed the herbs away from him. "Echofrost, this is the third time you've run out of herbs. It's Leafbare. Don't waste them on an injured apprentice when Rowanstar might get Green cough, or something."

"Brownpaw, don't be that way! You are just as important as anyone else I possibly use these herbs on. Now, I'll leave you alone for a bit, just as soon as you finish those up."

Reluctantly, he swallowed the bitter leaves under the medicine cat's stern gaze. Echofrost pushed a moss ball of snow and water towards him, and he drank eagerly.

"Well, I'll leave you now. Rushpaw said she'll be coming over to visit just as soon she gets back from hunting."

Brownpaw nodded, and Echofrost pranced out of the den, leaving him with his thoughts until Rushpaw came.

As soon as she was gone he lifted up a bit of his bedding ad pulled out some of the herbs he had saved, swallowing one or two furtively.

The first time Echofrost had run out of herbs it had dawned on him that he wouldn't make it through at the current rate.

He had been terribly injured in his first battle, a fight between two starving clans for a strip of territory that still had prey.

The second sunrise he had spent in the medicine den, a blizzard came, slamming the clans with heavy snow, sleet and wind.

Every one had been stuck in camp for a quarter moon. Prey was beyond scarce, and herbs and fresh bedding were hard to come by.

There had been many blizzards, with all able-bodied cat running out to hunt and gather in the lulls in between.

All the other cats reassured him he would be fine, visiting him in the dim medicine den, but he saw the worry in their eyes.

His wound would be bad even in the brightest Greenleaf, but when herbs were almost non existent and the much-needed prey was burrowed underground, it was awful.

A cat with dirty claws had come at him, kicking and hissing. Brownpaw had landed a few minor hits, but not before his opponent had torn a gaping wound into his flank.

His mentor had carried him back to camp, and he'd been there ever since.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sandy brown cat entering the medicine den.

"Hi, Brownpaw! I brought you some prey!"

Rushpaw dropped the scrawniest looking mouse he had ever seen in front of him. It wouldn't fill a kitten's belly.

"Share it with me! you're probably hungrier than I am."

Rushpaw's face clouded, but she dropped down next to him.

They devoured it in a few short bites.

Several times Rushpaw opened her mouth, as if to say something, but didn't.

Finally, she said, "Well, nobody else has died since we last talked."

"That's nice."

He knew the other cat wanted to cheer him up, but he wasn't in his usual good mood. He hadn't really since the battle, but he normally could put on a brave face.

Rushpaw seemed to notice. "Hey, something's bothering you."

He sighed. "Echofrost ran out of herbs again."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure she'll find another treatment."

Oh, that's not the problem. The problem is she'll keep running out until I die or someone else does.

But he wouldn't say that. Rushpaw was sweet, as optimistic as he used to be.

So instead he just curled up and rested his head on her.

She began grooming him, skirting around his wound. He was relaxed, Rushpaw was his friend. He had once even hoped she might become more than a friend. Now he didn't believe that was an option.

A yowl was heard from the far side of camp, towards the leaders and the elders dens. Rushpaw stood apologetically.

"I better go see what that was. I'll come back if I get the chance." With that she scurried out of the den.

Brownpaw sighed, returning to his former position.

He cold still hope. Even if it was unlikely Echofrost would have enough herbs to keep him stable, and prey would run well before he lost all of his weight, It was possible.

If he cold just hold on to that, keep saving herbs, keep doing everything he could, maybe he would make it through.


	2. Chapter 2

AN/ Okay, not so one-shotty as thought. I like this one better, though.

* * *

"Mama, I'm cold." A tiny mew reaches your ears from down in the nest.

Without saying anything you pull the wriggling bundle closer to you and try to lick some warmth back into it. It doesn't protest like any of your previous litters would have, but goes limp under your tounge. You give all the kits the same treatment, and only one of them has the energy to protest.

Harsh winds blow through the cracks in the den, causing the kits at your belly shiver in the cold. You pile moss over them and you, but it's crackling and dry and provides little warmth.

Over the never-ceasing wind you hear the wails that announce the demise of another cat.

You're disgusted that you're happy, not because they're better off in Starclan, but because there is now on less mouth to feed and your kits might make it through.

The concept seems so alien to you haven't even name them. Your mate protested at first, but you refused. Best not to get attached when they could be taken from you any day. They call each other things like Bravekit, Lionkit, and Sunkit, and you're happy to let them pretend. It get them to play and warms their blood.

That afternoon, as the sun goes down in the grey sky, a skin and bones warrior noses over a hunk of warm meat, and you and your kits gulp it down, you don't even pause to think of its origins or who's going without so you can eat. They curl around the kits, as a warrior has every night. The heat of other cats would be strongest in the warriors den, but there is no room. The kits would be trampled under paw or flank.

The night is worse, howling minds and a thicker, almost tangible cold. It is full of you your pelt anfluffingd snuggling close to your kits. Another blizzard is coming, you can feel it in your ones, hear it in the wind.

You think, as warriors try to dig the nursery out of a snow drift in the morning, after the storm that rocked the den with heavy snow and wind, that this can not continue. The monotonous process of living just to survive. You are frozen I your place as surely as the wasteland around you.

But you can not surrender. As harsh as this Leafbare is, you can not condemn your kits to the fate you desire, can not let the efforts of your clan mates to keep you alive go to waste.

So you rise from your nest to play with your kits, you continue living in the hopes of a brighter Newleaf.

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

It happened today.

There was a gut wrenching crack that woke you and sent the kits into a panic. But the older warriors had seen this before. They cried out and praised Starclan.

The ice had cracked. The river was thawing. Newleaf had begun.

You leave the kits with the warrior that stayed the night,

You cross the camp on legs stiff from a moon of sitting, straight to the warriors den.

Practically grabbing him by the scruff, you haul him back to the nursery.

The kits climb all over him, you have to carry them back into the nest.

You examine them carefully for the first time. You are no longer afraid of getting attached, just for all to be lost. They are here to stay.

There are three now. Only one succumbed to the terrible leafbare. A pale grey she cat with yellow eyes, like you, a tawny tom with amber eyes, just like his father, and a grey tabby tom with amber eyes, a mix of you both.

"Lightkit." You say to the she kit. Your mate stares at you and you purr a bit. He didn't expect this.

You nudge him a bit with your tail and turn to look at the tom identical to him.

"Thornkit" He says after a bit of thought. It is not what you would have picked, but still a good name.

You look at the last kit. His eyes are full of excitement at the thought of having a name, and your heart aches for the kits you have deprived of the simple pleasure of just having a name.

_Never again. _You think. _These kits will be happy._

"Rainkit." You say.

You feel content, as the kits play and call each others names. You let them play outside the den today.

Lightkit tumbles towards you, away from her wrestling siblings.

"Mama, why did you decide to give us names?"

You look into the kits eyes, They are not scarred with hardship as the warriors' are. They are innocent and full of hope.

"Because, Leafbare is over. Newleaf has come, and with it are new beginnings."

She shrugs and goes back to her prey.

You look around your clan and ponder your own words. It will take a while, but things will get better. The clan will grow strong, and there will be a new beginning.

There will be hope.

* * *

AN/ Now its over. Unless I do more. Who knows anymore?


End file.
